Who are We?
by Anonymous | Score: 7150
It's impossible, I think, to love something as much as I love the rush of not knowing whether I am going to win or not, not knowing if my fight was worth it in the end. It starts with games of rumi with my cousins and my siblings, sitting around my grandfather's table and slapping cards now. I understood all the rules perfectly, I did, at some point, I think. I accidentally set the cards on fire once and my cousin, my brilliant cousin with all her wild black hair and crooked teeth, she put it out with a metal fork, which I never thought was possible. I am thinking about this as I gaze at the lottery ticket before me. Brandon sits behind me, looking over my shoulder at what he thinks is another bill. When he realizes it's much too colorful, he smiles. "Congratulations," he says. That was a month ago. Almost all of it went into savings; what could I possibly want now that would be worth LOTTERY money? I couldn't think of a single thing. Split the difference, make the pros and cons list. But now, I realize, if I could buy love, I would have used it all for that. For just that moment when I locked eyes with her, I would have pushed all the money her way. But unfortunately, love is more complicated than that. it's more than what everyone thinks it is; it is more than a load of money. I am pouring way too much pepper on my grits when I realize what I'm doing. She hasn't caught sight of me yet, which is good. And suddenly I want my existence to be mundane. I do not want to bend at the forces surrounding my energy. I want the universe to forget my name. Then, she is sitting in front of me. I see that she has a name tag on her shirt. She works for a construction company. I smile up at her. I don't think it's possible to love this much or this deeply or to only have just met a person and feel this way. "Hello," she finally says. Her voice has a lilt just like Brandon's; she draws out her words and rounds them like she is making art with them. An alarm rings out. We both look out the window, into the suddenly too bright world. We are sick with love. We cannot stand it anymore. I slap on my safety glasses for the sun. We see the bank across the street, police and firemen surrounding it. I wonder if I can get away with murder in that moment, wonder if it matters. Crime is just a thing, just another event with her sitting here, sitting here in this cafe with me. I push my plate to the side. I don't want her to think any less of me but maybe she will. I love her. That's all I know. And then she is catching the hand of another girl, one who is hesitant to escape the scene. She looks like a librarian; hair, outfit, all. There is a baby crying, someone offstage and I wish everything would just go away for this one moment. I do not want to think anymore when my soulmate is right in front of me and I do not even know her name. She has a nametag, I remind myself, but that is not enough. I want to fight, to fly, to freeze, I want the alarms to stop, I want the baby to stop, I want the world to stop and suddenly I am thinking like Hamilton and I wish it would stop, I wish everything would stop; I wish I were dead. Brandon used to be a hard drug user. He used to be depressed, more like, and only drugs could ease what he was going through. How could I possibly love you? I think. how could I possibly lose you. i do no kn